


Division X

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: All-New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics), X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective AU, various other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A murder, an orphan, and a team on its first case. Lorna Dane has a lot going on, and she can't afford for any of it to go wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dakei Case

**Author's Note:**

> So I read X-Men Noir and wanted a detective AU. This is based on the second story-arc in the All-New X-Factor comics (or, the arc about Georgia Dakei.)

“I’m Detective Chief Dane, and I would like to urge the citizens of New York City not to panic. This death is a singular case, and very likely a personal crime. We are doing all we can to protect the family at this time. And I promise you, my team is working very hard, and we will catch this criminal. They will be brought to justice. You have my word.” 

*  
“Dangerous, giving your word on something you can’t promise,” Remy said, leaning against Lorna’s desk when she got back from talking to a group of journalists. She glared at him. “Just saying, not every case is solved.” 

“They all should be,” Lorna said. “Get off my desk. Meeting, now.” 

Remy slid off the desk and made his way into the meeting room. Lorna followed him. 

A few moments later, Pietro walked in, looking annoyed, possibly because the journalists had tried to get to him, too. Trailing in his wake was Doug, with a tablet in-hand. A very high-end tablet. Probably new tech for the precinct to try out. They were getting more of that these days. 

Lorna shut the door and turned towards the team. “We don’t have much so far,” she said. “All we know is that two days ago, Georgia Dakei streamed a video where she expressed a desire to be less sheltered, and her father, Scott, got angry at her for putting those things online and destroyed her computer. Yesterday, he turned up dead. We took custody of Georgia, and a few hours later a man called Harrison Snow came saying he has the legal right to take over as her care giver.” 

“Snow can suck it,” Remy muttered. Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. “What? He’s a fat cat business suit.” 

“So’s Dakei,” Pietro said. “And he’s blatantly anti-immigration. Why do you think he keeps Georgia so sheltered? I bet he can hardly stand that she’s a minority. Or maybe he adopted her to soothe the guilt.” 

“Pietro,” Lorna said, but she didn’t put much force into it. Everyone knew that Pietro was sensitive about that sort of thing. He’d come over from Eastern Europe with his twin sister, Wanda, looking for a better life. They were from a Roma community, and had faced a lot of hardships in Europe. Worse, they had been raised by a demanding father. When Pietro and Wanda came to the states, they’d assimilated pretty well, but still. Their childhood was always a shadow. 

It wasn’t the only shadow in Pietro’s life. 

And Lorna didn’t know how to feel about it, because she’d learned, last year, that she and Pietro were related. They had the same father. But Lorna’s mother had taken her to the states when she was younger. She and Pietro didn’t like to discuss the details. 

“What gives Snow the right to take her, anyway?” Doug asked. 

“Legal documents,” Lorna said. 

“Okay, but why Snow? He’s Dakei’s most prominent business rival in the city, possibly in the state.” 

“This is why we have you on the team,” Remy said. Doug frowned at him. 

“We’ll look into it,” Lorna said, “but for the moment there’s not much we can do. Except interview Georgia, I suppose. We’ve already told Snow that we’ll contact him if we need to talk to her, and I think we do. She was in the building at the time of the murder, though not in his office, where the murder occurred. But she might have heard something.” 

“I hope she’s seeing a shrink,” Remy muttered. “Poor girl.” 

“We’ve recommended one,” Lorna said. “Now, I can talk to her—“

“I’ll do it,” Pietro said abruptly. Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. “I saw that video. I know what it’s like to have an overbearing father.” 

Lorna almost couldn’t contain her surprise. He didn’t talk about these things in public. “Great,” she said. “Set it up.” 

*  
When they stepped outside, the police commissioner, Nick Fury, was there. Apparently he wanted to check up on the case and the team. 

“Young team,” he said, looking Lorna and the others up and down. “Most teams have a leader that can apply for senior citizen benefits.” His gaze rested on Pietro. “Mind, you look young but your hair looks old.” 

“Genetic anomaly,” Pietro muttered, unconsciously running a hand through his white hair. 

“Maybe he was born with it,” Remy said, smirking. 

“And you look like you just came off the streets,” Fury said. “This is a public case. I expect you to represent the precinct and the city. And to shave.” 

Remy rubbed his stubble. Fury turned back to Lorna, taking in her green hair. “Your hair also a genetic anomaly?” 

“Used it to go undercover a few years ago,” Lorna said, “and I kept the look. I think it suits me.” 

Fury stared at her for a moment longer and then turned away. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said, before walking out. 

Remy grinned half-heartedly at the rest of them. “He says that to all the teams.” 

*

Lorna stood in front of the door to the interview room. She could see Pietro weaving his way through the office, coming towards her with a recording device and notebook in-hand. When he caught sight of her his eyes narrowed. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I’m coming in with you,” Lorna said. “I decided that it’ll be better if the both of us interview her.” 

“That’s not—“

“I’m leading this,” Lorna said. “Take or it leave it.” 

Pietro ran a hand through his hair and handed the notebook to Lorna. “You can at least trust me with asking the right questions.” 

“I didn’t say-“ Lorna started, but Pietro moved around her, opened the door, and walked in. With a frustrated sigh, Lorna followed. 

Georgia sat at the opposite end of the table looking very small. Her eyes were wide, and she looked exhausted and possibly like she’d been crying recently. Lorna and Pietro sat across from her and Lorna went through the motions of turning on the recording device and stating who they were interviewing and what the date was. 

After, she said, “I’m sorry we can’t be a little more casual. How’re you?” 

“Not great,” Georgia said. “It’s—I don’t know Mr. Snow. He seems nice, but his cook won’t let me make pie, and I really want to make pie.” At Lorna’s confused look she added, “It helps me calm down.” 

“Fair enough,” Lorna said. “We just need to ask you a few questions.” Georgia nodded. 

Lorna glanced at Pietro, who said, “The night of the crime, had you spoken to your father?” 

Georgia shook her head, then remembered to say, “No,” for the benefit of the tape. “He doesn’t have dinner with me a lot. Or breakfast. Or lunch. He comes in and out but he’s always really busy.” 

“And yet he rarely let you leave the apartment?” 

“Yeah.” 

Lorna gave Pietro a sidelong look, but he ignored her. “Had anyone told you where your father would be that evening?” 

“No,” Georgia said. “He was in the building, I know that. He always is. Well, sometimes he has a dinner somewhere or a meeting, but, yeah.” 

Pietro nodded. “And has he ever mentioned Harrison Snow to you before?” 

“No,” Georgia answered. “I’ve never met him. He seems important.” 

“Was there anything unusual in your apartment that night, or in Snow’s when you arrived?” 

“I don’t think so,” Georgia said. “I just…I don’t know why daddy would send me to stay with him. I don’t know him. I know I don’t have much family, but I thought—he’s hired a lot of nannies, and I like the one I have.” 

“Were you satisfied with your time at home?” Pietro asked, quietly. 

“Yes!” Georgia’s voice had a little more conviction than was necessary. Lorna wanted to say something, but kept silent. “I know what you think because of the video, but he was just angry. He’s nice, mostly. He cares about me. Cared. He loved me. I-I miss him.” 

“And Snow?” Pietro asked. 

“He doesn’t let me go out, either,” Georgia said. “Someone’s always watching me. He doesn’t talk to me that much himself.” 

“Do you know of any other relatives?” Pietro asked. “A mother, perhaps?” 

“Pietro,” Lorna muttered. 

“My mom died, a few years ago,” Georgia said. 

“Thank you so much, Georgia,” Lorna said, turning off the recording device and cutting off whatever Pietro’s next question was. “You’re really helping. And if you need anything, you can call us or drop by.” 

“Thank you,” Georgia said. She stood up, shakily, and allowed Lorna to lead her to the door, where another officer escorted her to one of Snow’s drivers. 

That done, Lorna closed the door behind her and folded her arms over her chest. 

“What was that about?” 

Pietro wasn’t looking at her. “Our job is to help people,” he said. “The way she’s living—it’s unacceptable. I don’t trust Snow.” 

“You don’t know him,” Lorna said. “It must be hard, suddenly having to deal with a teenager. You’re just reminding her of things she probably doesn’t want to think about. Like her dead mother.” 

“If there’s a chance someone who really cares about her can take her in,” Pietro said, “then I want to know what it is. Is her real mother alive and willing to take her? Is-” 

“She doesn’t know she’s adopted,” Lorna hissed. “And are you sure you aren’t letting your personal life bleed into your work?” 

Pietro gave her a cold look. “It already is. I work for you, and it’s the only reason I’m working at all.”

Lorna didn’t rise to the bait. “Maybe you should talk to your daughter instead of trying to project her onto our case.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Pietro snapped, rising from his seat. 

“Sorry,” Lorna said. She partially meant it, too. The other part of her thought it was something Pietro needed to hear. “Look, if you can convince me that there’s a lead involving Georgia’s relations that’s worth pursuing, I’ll gladly let you take a look. But if it’s not relevant to finding out who murdered Dakei, I want you to drop it.” 

“Fine,” Pietro said. He looked like he was three seconds away from tearing his own hair out. 

A knock on the door saved them from any further conversation. Lorna opened it to find Doug and Remy on the other side, both looking excited. In his hand, Doug held a manila file. 

“We found some new info on Georgia,” Doug said. “Her biological mother’s address.”


	2. Family Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence towards the end.

Dakota Bennett, 36, currently living in a small brownstone on the outer edges of the Bronx, was Georgia Dakei’s real mother according to hospital records. 

“We need to go see her immediately,” Pietro said when they first found out. 

“Why?” Remy asked. “I mean it’s great we know in order ta find Georgia a place ta stay, if her mom wants her, but…” 

“But,” Lorna said, “Georgia’s biological mom might know Georgia’s biological dad, who isn’t listed in the hospital files. Right, Doug?” 

“I couldn’t find a trace of him,” Doug said, frowning. “I usually can.” 

“There’s a chance,” Lorna continued, “that maybe Georgia’s father, who’s the missing link here, knew about Georgia’s adoptive father and has something to do with his disappearance.” 

“Or he’s dead,” Remy said. Everyone glared at him. “What? It’s a real possibility.” 

“Either way,” Lorna said, “we need to fill in the gaps and we need to fill them in, now.” She nudged Pietro. “Congratulations.” 

“Thank you,” Pietro said, grudgingly. 

Which is how they ended up in the Bronx, standing on Dakota Bennett’s doorstep, while others in the neighborhood slowed down when they walked past out of curiosity. 

Eventually, Dakota opened the door. She was tall, dark-skinned like her daughter, and very confused. “I’m sorry,” she said, “is something wrong?” 

“There’s something you ought to know,” Lorna said. “I’m Detective Lorna Dane and these are the members of my team. We’re leading an investigation and we’d like to ask you a few questions. Can we come in?” 

“Sure,” Dakota said, stepping back to let them pass. “Please do.” 

*

Lorna explained Georgia’s case and the death of her adoptive father. Dakota took this all in, looking like she was trying very hard not to cry. Lorna took her hand, just because she looked like she needed the contact. 

“Is there a chance,” Dakota said, her eyes shining, “that I could possibly…take care of her?” 

“Possibly,” Lorna said. “We do need to ask about her father.” 

“Oh.” Dakota’s expression closed off. “We’re not together. We haven’t been, since before Georgia’s birth.” 

“Is he alive?” Lorna asked. 

Dakota nodded. “As far as I know. We don’t speak.” 

“Can you tell us about him?” Lorna asked. “I’m sorry, but we really do need to cover all our bases here.” 

“I can do better,” Dakota said. “Stay here a minute.” She stood up and left the room. 

Lorna turned around to where the others were standing, having finished casually examining the home. “What do you all think?” 

“It’s so normal,” Pietro said. His expression was just as closed off as Dakota’s had been. 

“It’s nice,” Remy added. “I mean, far be it from me ta judge a person’s home—“

“You live in a wreck,” Pietro muttered. 

“—But this is a really nice place,” Remy finished. 

“The computer is clean,” was all Doug said. 

Dakota returned with several newspaper clippings, which she placed on the table between them. “I made a mistake when I was younger,” she said. “Georgia’s father is a criminal. That’s why I don’t talk to him. He runs a syndicate, and I didn’t find out until it was too late. I escaped him. I couldn’t trust him to keep her safe.” 

Lorna took one of the clippings and caught a glimpse of the man. The article called him, “Memento Mori.” 

“If you want to find him,” Dakota said, “you’ll have to dig deep. He has powerful friends.” 

Remy leaned over Lorna and took one of the clippings. “I might have a way in, actually,” he said. “My specialty is the criminal underworld, and I know my fair share of informants.” 

Dakota suddenly looked worried. “You’re not going to go to him, are you?” 

“We need answers,” Lorna said. 

“It isn’t safe,” Dakota said. “He’s ruthless. I didn’t leave just because he was a criminal. Many people can deal with that. I left because he made me feel unsafe. And if he finds out where Georgia is, or where I am…” She swallowed. “Please.” 

“We’re professionals,” Lorna said, and hated how silly it sounded. She felt like she should’ve had more confidence in saying that, especially after all the years she spent fighting to get to this position. She deserved it. “We know what we’re doing.” 

“We’ll make sure you’re safe,” Remy added. “You can trust me on that.” He smiled at her, that charming grin that made many people open up to him, trust him. It was one of his best assets. 

Dakota nodded reluctantly. Lorna smiled and stood up. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll keep in touch. And we’ll let Georgia know that you want to meet her.” 

Dakota nodded again. “Thank you.” 

*

“We have to tell her,” Doug said, taking a sip of his beer. “Before we go to Mori.” 

They were at the bar nearest the precinct, sitting in a corner booth. Well, Remy was flirting with someone at the bar, and the rest of them were sitting in the booth. Lorna was nursing her second vodka on the rocks, and Pietro looked troubled. 

“Come on,” Doug continued. “Don’t you agree, Pietro?” 

“Yes,” Pietro said. “This is…a delicate situation. We should tell her in the morning, before Mori comes.” 

“We’ll need to prepare for the field,” Lorna said. “There isn’t time. That’s the problem. We can send another officer. It doesn’t need to be us.” 

“We’re familiar to her,” Doug said. “She’ll feel more comfortable with us.” 

“She met us once,” Lorna said. “That hardly qualifies as developing a meaningful relationship.” 

“You don’t need me in the field,” Doug argued. “I can tell her while the rest of you go. I’m only around for tech, anyway.” 

“And what if Mori has tech we need you to unlock?” Lorna asked. “Doug, you’re part of the team. Where the team goes, you go.” 

Doug sighed and pushed his beer away. 

“I know it’s hard,” Lorna said. “She’s young. But we’re doing our job so that she can get some closure. So she can continue living her life.” 

“You’re right,” Doug said. “Just—I wish we could do more.” He glanced at Remy while taking a sip of his beer. “I thought he had a girlfriend.” 

“That was last week,” Lorna said. “I think he actually really liked her, to be honest. Maybe you should join him. He’ll find you a nice woman or man, whatever your preference. You need to get out more.” 

Doug choked on his beer. “I’m—Remy is not going to be my wingman.” 

“I’m just saying,” Lorna said, smirking. “Take the chance while you have it.” 

“You’ll never stop bugging me if I don’t, will you,” Doug said. Lorna nodded and he sighed. “Fine.” He slid out of the booth and walked over to Remy and the woman, taking the stool next to them. Remy took this in stride, putting his arm around Doug’s shoulders and introducing him. 

Across the table, Pietro was staring out the window. Lorna snapped her fingers in his face and he jerked. “Thoughts?” 

“On?” 

“Anything?” Lorna took another sip of her drink. “I can’t sit with someone who’s staring out the window.” 

“Flirt with Remy,” Pietro said. 

“Ew. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“Yes.” 

Lorna sighed. “Really, Pietro. What are you thinking about?” 

“I think you know,” Pietro said. 

She did. “I know it’s your first time in the field since you got back. But we’ll be with you. It’ll be fine.” 

Pietro ran a hand over his face. “I had a nightmare last night,” he said, “the first in some time. I don’t think I’ll sleep well tonight.” 

“We all want to get this right,” Lorna said. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t think about it,” Pietro said. “It would be easier if I could be like Remy.” 

“I think Remy needs to worry more,” Lorna said. “We don’t have to talk work if you don’t want to talk work.” 

“I don’t,” Pietro said. He leaned forward. “I do want to talk about whether you’re ever going to set up coffee with Wanda.” 

“Oh, don’t,” Lorna said, taking a large gulp of her drink. 

“Wanda wants to meet you,” Pietro insisted. “I think you’d like her, and she’d like you.” 

“Then why didn’t she contact me?” Lorna said acerbically. “Like you did? Why do I have to do the work?” 

“Lorna,” Pietro said, “she’s nervous. As you probably are.” 

“I am not nervous.” 

“You should,” Pietro said, taking Lorna’s glass before she could grab it and downing the contents. She glared at him. “You’ll be better for Wanda than I ever was.” 

Lorna snatched back her empty glass. “That’s not true. She probably wants to figure out who her competition is for favorite sibling.” 

They were distracted by Doug laughing. Lorna smiled; it was good to see him being more social, and actually having fun while doing so. 

Pietro sighed, taking Lorna’s glass back across the table and waving it in front of her. “Drink?” 

*

Gunshots rang through the street, all other sounds falling away. The gun recoiled in his hand each time, one-two-three, out of sync with the shots being returned, and he could hardly see a thing until—

Silence. He lowered the gun and his vision cleared. 

Red puddled on the floor. All blood and bodies surrounding him. Colleagues and criminals alike. How many of those were his fault? He’d shot three times. Spinning around, he caught sight of the nearest corpse, it’s head blown out, making it barely recognizable. But he recognized the jacket, the logo of the criminal organization X-Cell. 

One. 

Pietro screamed himself awake.


	3. Memento Mori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicide and death in the second half of the chapter.

There were lots of places criminals could hide, and an elaborately (and illegally) renovated abandoned subway station was one of them. Mori had apparently paid several parties to keep their mouths shut, because the police hadn’t known about this hide-away until now. 

The only reason they got the location at all was because Remy convinced one of his informants who’d been there to give the location away, and only then because Remy offered a lot of money and promised not to prosecute the guy for carrying drugs. 

As they made their way into the station through one of the boarded up street entrances in lower Manhattan, Lorna tried not to think about how this all might end. Her goal was that it would end well, that Mori wouldn’t kill them all, and that the rest of them wouldn’t be traumatized. Even Remy looked tense as he crawled through the hole they’d made in the entrance with his gun out, and he never looked tense. 

Pietro also had his gun out, and his skin had taken on a papery-pale shade. He looked like he wanted to be sick, but he went after Remy without hesitation. Lorna went after him, followed by Doug, who was the least experienced of them in the field. 

Lorna hoped that they would succeed. She knew she’d been given the team that no one else would have (especially in Pietro’s case, literally no one else wanted to take him after his break down). That didn’t mean she resented them. They were all talented, and she respected them. They just had their struggles that other DC’s didn’t want to deal with. Lorna had always worked harder than most people in the department, so she hadn’t balked at dealing with this team in particular. 

Pietro turned on a flashlight and they descended into the station. The stairs going down looked like those of every other subway station, except more dusty, and with more rats. Clearly, if the criminals were using an entrance, it wasn’t this one. 

The stairs evened out and turnstiles appeared, broken. There were tracks beyond. The team climbed over the turnstiles and stopped at the edge of the platform. 

There were iron struts separating each side of the tracks, but through them, they could see light glowing on the other side of the station. Lorna led them off to the left, where they found a set of stairs. These looked more well used, and when they reached the bottom, they stepped into a pool of light. 

The passenger tunnels that connected the two platforms and various street exits were filled with equipment, weapons, and boxes full of what Lorna suspected were drugs. She stared at them. A voice from the other end of the tunnel caught her attention. 

“I don’t recall inviting you here,” it said. 

Lorna looked up. A man wearing a bone-white mask stared back at them. He was covered in some sort of cloak. She pointed her weapon at him and said, “We’re looking for the man calling himself Memento Mori.” 

The shadows in the tunnel seemed to be moving. “Lorna,” Pietro murmured in her ear. 

“I am he,” the man in front of them said. “Now, what would the police be doing here? Who told you where I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Lorna said. “If you cooperate, we’ll be gentle. If not, you’ll find yourself in a world of trouble. We want you to answer some questions.” 

“Brave words,” Mori said, “for someone who is surrounded by enemies.” 

The shadows definitely moved this time, and resolved into several men and woman, some with knives, others with guns, all surrounding the team. 

“This looks bad,” Remy whispered. 

“I don’t want this to get violent,” Lorna said, keeping her voice steady. “Please, just tell me if you know anything about the murder of Scott Dakei.” 

“Scott Dakei,” Mori repeated, turning the name over. “He is familiar. As is his daughter.” 

“You know what happened?” Lorna asked. 

“I know,” Mori said, “where you got your information about me. Many don’t even know I exist, but you found my name while trying to track down Dakei’s killer. Which leads me to believe that you talked to Dakota Bennett.” Lorna felt cold fear pool in her stomach. “Am I wrong?” 

“You’re wrong,” Lorna said. “I don’t know who that is.” 

“Liar,” Mori hissed. “No matter. I will take care of the problem.” 

“What do you mean, you—“

Mori snapped his fingers, and the men and women bearing weapons attacked. 

Shots rang out. Lorna felt someone grab her and push her into the wall. A knife was at her throat. She kicked whoever held it in the groin and they crumbled. She grabbed their wrist, twisted it, and they let go of the knife. She kicked it under one of the tables, then took a pair of handcuffs and fastened them around her attacker’s wrists. 

“I’ve called for backup,” Remy said. “But we need ta go!” 

“I know,” Lorna said, as another of Mori’s associates loomed out of the shadows. She dispatched of this one quickly as well. “Remy,” she glanced around and saw that two more were handcuffed or unconscious, “I need you to stay with Doug until backup arrives, see if you can get into the computers. Pietro, with me.” She didn’t give him the chance to respond, just grabbed him from where he’d been cuffing a young woman and dragged him out of the station. 

*

A call came in as Lorna weaved her car through the streets of the Bronx. “Visuals on Mori on top of an apartment building near Dakota Bennett’s home,” the speaker said. “Texting the address.” 

Pietro took the information and put it into the GPS. Within five minutes, they were pulling up to the apartment. 

Two police cars were already there, and several policemen were looking up at the roof. The building must have been about eight or ten stories high. Lorna couldn’t focus on counting. Her eyes were drawn to the masked man standing at the edge, and the dark-haired woman in his grip. 

“Mori!” she shouted. “Step away from the edge or we will have to use force!” 

“If any of your officers come within a few feet of me,” Mori said, “I will throw her over.” One of the policemen said something into his radio; Lorna assumed a group had been on their way up to the roof. 

“He’s going to do it anyway,” Pietro said. 

“No,” Lorna said. “There’s a reason he’s waited for us to show up.” To Mori she shouted, “What do you want?” 

“I want the police to let me go,” Mori said, “and I would like to take custody of Georgia.” 

“He can’t do that,” Pietro said. 

“It’s Georgia’s choice,” Lorna told Mori. “Surely we can come to an agreement.” 

“I believe that Georgia would benefit from staying with me,” Mori said. “Why should she be kept from her father?” 

“Because he’s dangerous!” Dakota cried. 

“We can call off the police,” Lorna said, “but we can’t give you an answer about Georgia right now. We’ll have to discuss it.” 

“There is nothing to discuss,” Mori snarled, leaning Dakota further over the edge. She struggled to gain footing to keep herself balanced. 

“Don’t do that,” Lorna shouted. “Why shouldn’t Georgia have a mother, too?” 

“This woman has kept Georgia from me all these years,” Mori snarled. “What makes you think she won’t do the same now? No, I gain full custody of Georgia. Make your choice.” 

Before Lorna could say anything, Dakota wrapped her arms around Mori and tipped back, precariously over the edge. There was a moment where it looked like Mori could regain his balance, a moment where Lorna thought she was shouting nonsense, and she heard Dakota yell something to Mori. 

And then they fell. 

A horrible cracking sound followed. Lorna’s ears were ringing. The two bodies lay slumped, broken, on the concrete sidewalk in a pool of blood. The rest of the police had jumped to action. 

“They’re dead,” Lorna managed. 

She turned to Pietro. His face was pale, his eyes glued to the bodies on the sidewalk. He was frozen. Which meant she couldn’t be. 

She grabbed his arm, pulling him back towards the car. He let himself be dragged along like some sort of child. She pushed him into the passenger seat and got into the driver’s side. He stared out the window. He was probably in shock. 

It wasn’t the best first case back in the field for someone with his past experience. 

She turned on the ignition and pulled the car out of the tangle of police vehicles surrounding the buildings. Soon they were pelting down several streets on their way back to the precinct. 

“This isn’t over,” she said. 

There was no response.


	4. Aftermath

The precinct was a mess of phones ringing, officers hurrying from desk-to-desk, and journalists trying to get access to anyone with information. Lorna pushed through to Doug’s desk, where he and Remy were watching a computer screen. 

“Someone needs to stay with Pietro,” she said. “Last time he had a breakdown and I’m not saying he will this time, but…it doesn’t look good.” 

“I will,” Remy volunteered. 

“We’ll sort through what we’ve found,” Lorna said to Doug. “If you can manage it.” 

“I can,” Doug said, “but I think you need a break.” 

“I’ll get a drink later,” she said. “We don’t have time.” She wanted a drink now. She wanted to forget everything. She’d solved problems like that before, and knew it wasn’t the right way to do things. She’d almost lost her job that way. 

Remy stood up and she took his seat. To Doug, she said, “Show me what you got.” 

As it turned out, he’d found a lot. 

*

Remy found Pietro in the car. He got into the driver’s seat and asked, “Wanna go home?” 

After a moment, Pietro nodded. Remy began to drive. It occurred to him that he didn’t know where Pietro lived. He remembered Lorna mentioning the East Village once, but it might’ve been in relation to something else. 

“Pietro,” he said after a few moments, “I need your address.” 

Pietro took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he said, shortly, “Pull over.” 

“That’s not what I m—“

“Pull over!” 

Remy swerved into the sidewalk. Luckily, it was a side street, empty of both cars and people. 

He turned off the car just as Pietro opened the door and leaned out. He was about to ask what was wrong when Pietro started retching, vomit spattering on the sidewalk. Awkwardly, Remy put a hand on Pietro’s shoulder to steady him, maybe to comfort him as he lost everything in his stomach. He could feel Pietro shaking. 

After some time, Pietro managed to stop retching, and he leaned back into the car, closing the door. Remy withdrew his hand, unsure of what to do next. 

“I can take you home now, if you want,” he said, quietly. 

Pietro cursed, or it sounded like a curse, but it was in a language Remy didn’t understand. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, hard, and then, suddenly, punched the dash with a snarl. 

“Pietro,” Remy started, but Pietro continued to punch the dash, crying out in rage. He didn’t stop, and Remy wasn’t sure whether to stop him. Instead, he just watched. 

With a sound almost like a scream, Pietro slapped his hand against the dash one last time and collapsed forward, his body shaking with harsh sobs. 

Remy decided to throw all unfamiliarity to the wind as he pulled Pietro away from the dash, allowing him to lean against his chest. Pietro clutched at Remy’s arms, still gasping. 

“S’okay,” Remy said, even though it wasn’t. 

“Th-they died,” Pietro choked, “I saw them, and we c-couldn’t stop them. The s-sound. The blood—“

“I heard,” Remy said. It had been a gruesome phone call. 

“Wanted to help her,” Pietro muttered. “Dakota. Georgia.” His voice was muffled by tears and Remy’s coat. “Not good enough.” 

“Lorna would kill me if I let myself agree with that,” Remy said. “There’s a reason you’re on the team, and it’s not because you’re Lorna’s brother. It’s because she had faith that you’re good at your job. Because you care about the people involved, even when you pretend not to. This isn’t your fault.” 

“Georgia almost had a home,” Pietro said. His breath still hitched, but he’d calmed down somewhat. “W-we need to make sure that she…she needs a good home.” 

“She has Snow,” Remy said. 

“I don’t trust Snow,” Pietro snapped. 

“Why not?” Remy asked. 

“It’s a feeling,” Pietro said. “It doesn’t make sense. I—“ He sat up, wiping his eyes. “We need to go back. Lorna was right. This isn’t over.” 

“Your call,” Remy said, turning the car back on.

He was pulling out when Pietro said, quietly, “Thank you.” 

Remy nodded. “No problem.” 

*

Lorna couldn’t tear her eyes away from the computer screen. 

“Basically,” Doug was saying, “Mori was smart. He was sending encrypted messages so that any surface checks on his drives wouldn’t reveal anything. But I dug a little deeper, there was some difficult code, but he was hiding this correspondence. He was hired to kill Scott Dakei in return for custody of Georgia.” 

“Holy shit,” Lorna muttered. “Who hired him?” 

“That’s the thing,” Doug said. “I’m running a program to figure out where the messages came from. Whoever sent them was even more cautious than Mori. They really wanted to cover their tracks.” 

“I would too,” Lorna said, “if I were planning to murder someone as important as Dakei. How long is this gonna take?” 

“Fifteen minutes more, tops,” Doug said. “Should we bring Georgia in?” 

“Someone’s just been to tell her about Mori,” Lorna said, grimacing. “She’s had to deal with so much in the past few days. I feel for her. Maybe we should wait until we know more.” 

“Or maybe we should bring her in for her own safety,” said a voice behind them. 

Lorna and Doug turned to find Pietro and Remy standing behind them. Remy gave them a lopsided grin. “So what’s the news?” he asked. 

While Doug updated them, Lorna examined Pietro. His eyes were red-rimmed, he was too pale, but he was focused on what Doug was saying. There was a new determination about him, and secretly, Lorna was glad. A distracted Pietro was better than a depressed one, even if it was only a temporary fix. 

When Doug finished explaining, Pietro said, “Your computer’s too slow. It’s Snow.” 

“What makes you think that?” Lorna asked. “Aside from the fact that you don’t like the guy?” 

“Whoever hired Mori promised him Georgia in exchange,” Pietro said, “which means that the person who hired him expected to have access to Georgia after Dakei’s death, perhaps even custody. It’s entirely possible that Snow messed with some legal files before Dakei’s murder. I wouldn’t be surprised, if he can also hide the source of his messages to Mori. Admittedly, my dislike of the man may have prompted me to this conclusion faster than to any other, but it’s too big of a coincidence to ignore. And instinct, as we’ve been told, is a valuable asset if we know when to use it.” 

“Why would he do that?” Doug asked. 

“Snow and Dakei were business rivals,” Pietro said. “Dakei’s company had skyrocketed in the stock market, leaving Snow’s in the dust. His business was taking money and customers directly from Snow’s. But that doesn’t matter. We need to get Georgia out of there.” 

“If this is true,” Lorna said, “Georgia doesn’t have a home.” 

“And? Right now she doesn’t have a safe home,” Pietro said. “If we even have the slightest doubt that Snow’s intentions are noble, which we do, then we should keep Georgia safe until we’re absolutely sure. Mori is dead, and if Snow is the one who hired him, what do you think he’ll do to Georgia now that he can’t give her away?” 

“I don’t think he’d kill her,” Remy said. “It’d be bad publicity.” 

The computer made a ping noise and they all turned towards it. Doug leaned forward, reading. The whole team huddled over him. 

“It’s true,” Doug said. “Pietro was right.” 

“Never thought I’d hear that,” Remy muttered. 

Pietro turned to Lorna. “We have to go.” 

“You stay here—“

“No, I’m coming.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“No,” Pietro said, “but I will be once I know this is over.” 

Lorna sighed. “Fine. We’ll all go. Why not?” She turned and walked out of the office, the rest of the team following in her wake. 

*

Snow was sitting in a meeting room, waiting for them when they arrived and filed in. Remy stood guard by the door. Pietro had gone elsewhere, looking for Georgia. Doug and Lorna put themselves at opposite ends of the table, Lorna closest to Snow. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Snow asked, standing up and offering a seat to Lorna. 

“No, thanks,” Lorna said. “Harrison Snow, you are under arrest for planning the murder of Scott Dakei.” 

“Why would I do that?” Snow asked. His eyes narrowed. “And what proof do you have?” 

“Correspondence between you two,” Doug said, “taken from Mememto Mori’s computer. That name sound familiar?” 

“I am a man of class,” Snow said. “I don’t dabble in crime.” 

“The evidence says you do,” Lorna said. “You can come quietly, or—“

Snow pressed a button on the table and hissed, “Do it.” 

The team moved. The door behind Remy burst open, and he met the guard that came through with a knee to the groin. Doug found the room’s sole computer and started to disable any security features that Snow might’ve activated to prevent anyone from getting in or out of the building.

Snow tried to run, but Lorna leapt across several chairs and tackled him to the ground. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Snow snarled. “Innocent people have died on your watch while you floundered about solving the case. Your failure—“

Lorna punched him in the face. “Shut the hell up. At least Georgia won’t have to suffer a scumbag like you.” She twisted his arms around, snapping metal cuffs a bit too tight around his wrists. 

“I’ve called backup,” Remy said, stepping back into the room with a night stick in-hand. “Also, two of the guards might have concussions.” 

“Maybe it’ll knock some sense into them,” Lorna said. Snow was glaring at her, but he wasn’t moving. 

“There’s some incriminating stuff here,” Doug said, “now I’ve gotten into the system. I’ll send it over to the precinct.” 

From outside, familiar voices drifted into the room. “We need to take you to the precinct,” Pietro was saying, “to make sure you’re safe. I’m so sorry.” 

“Okay.” Georgia sounded like she was crying. 

Remy shifted. “I’m gonna go help Pietro with Georgia,” he said, and he slipped through the door and was gone. 

A few minutes later, a group of officers burst through the door, and Lorna shoved Snow at them, and he was dragged away. 

It wasn’t quite the end, but it was a good start.


	5. Coming Home

“Some of the other teams call us X-Factor ta mess with us,” Remy was telling the press the next day, “because we labeled ourselves Division X, and because of the show.” He paused, and then added, almost as an after thought, “But I think that name’s kinda cool” 

“He’s charming enough that the press won’t hate us,” Lorna said. She’d opted to only release statements. Talking to a gaggle of journalists grouped on the front steps of the precinct was too chaotic for any good to come of it. She’d just get annoyed. 

“He could be PR,” Doug agreed. 

Lorna ducked back inside. Georgia was in the break room, drinking hot chocolate and making a list. In the meeting room, Pietro was on the phone with someone, pacing restlessly from side-to-side. She decided to go sit with Georgia for now, just to see how the girl was doing. 

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the list. 

“Detective LeBeau said I could make pie later,” Georgia said. “He said that if it helps me feel better, might as well do it. And he’d buy the ingredients.” 

“How nice of him,” Lorna said. “You know, he’s a good cook. He’s from the south. They do nice food down there.” 

Georgia nodded. “We went to the south once. Georgia, like my name. It was nice.” She sighed. “What’s gonna happen to me?” 

“We’re going to do what we think is best,” Lorna said. 

“What about what I want?” Georgia asked. 

Lorna nodded. “You have a say. But do you know what you want?” 

Georgia shrugged. “I don’t even know what I have.” 

Nothing, Lorna didn’t say because despite it being the truth, it was sad and something that Georgia didn’t really need to hear. All she said was, “We’ll figure it out.” 

Remy burst into the room with a huge grin on his face. “They ate it all up. We’re gonna be the most popular detectives this side of the Hudson.” 

“That’s not—that doesn’t actually include a lot of the country,” Lorna pointed out. 

Remy shrugged, lowering himself into the nearest chair. “You got my ingredients?” 

Georgia handed him her handwritten list, which he took a second to read. “There is the matter of where you’re going to stay,” Lorna said. “Nothing permanent, but you can’t sleep in an empty apartment and you certainly wouldn’t like sleeping in a police headquarters. You can stay with one of us if you want. But it’s up to you.” 

Georgia looked at Remy and Lorna, clearly thinking. Remy was also watching Lorna. 

“You can take until this evening to think about it,” Lorna said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “Remy, with me.” She dragged him out of the room and over to the desks, where she gestured for him to sit down. He did. “Sorry. I should’ve asked first.” 

“Asked what?” Pietro had emerged from the meeting room, his hair standing on end, but he looked better than he had the day before. There was even a hint of a smile. 

“I told Georgia she can stay with any of us,” Lorna said, “until we find her a permanent home. The problem is, I forgot to ask all of you.” 

“I’m not sure I’d make a good father,” Doug said from a few desks away. 

“I can,” Pietro said, “if she really wants me to.” 

“I know y’all don’t trust me with that sorta thing,” Remy said, “but I’d be up for it. I’d actually like it, if she wanted ta stay with me.” 

Pietro raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Lorna felt surprised; she thought something like that would cramp Remy’s style. He was the most social of all of them, sometimes to the point of letting it affect his work. “Fine,” Lorna said. “No one’s off-limits except Doug. Sounds good.” 

Remy grinned and sauntered over to Doug, who was still typing on his computer. “Case is over. What’re you doing.” 

“Nothing!” Doug said. Which made it sound like something. 

“Come on, are you—is that a dating site?” 

“No…” 

Lorna grinned. “Good for him!” 

Doug glared at her. “It’s not.” 

“Who’re ‘Warlock’?” Remy asked. 

“Just someone I’m talking to,” Doug said. 

“It says,” Remy said, “do you want ta do dinner tonight?” 

“I might have to do more work on the case,” Doug said. “I don’t have time for—“

“Just go,” Lorna said. “The case is pretty much done for us. It’s in the lawyers’ hands now.” 

“Have fun,” Remy said, winking at him. Doug put his head in his hands and groaned. 

*  
At the end of the day, Georgia chose to stay with Remy, Doug went on his not-a-date, and Lorna took Pietro to the bar, where she got them both lots of hard liquor drinks with the intent of letting them get drunk. It didn’t feel like a celebration because it wasn’t. 

“So,” Lorna said, after Pietro had downed his first drink, “I’ve been thinking. I’ll do coffee with Wanda, but only if you come along.” 

“Okay,” Pietro said. “Why?” 

“Because you’re both my siblings, technically,” Lorna said. “Also, it’ll be less awkward if I already have one person I know around.” 

“Fair,” Pietro said. He tapped his fingers against the glass. “I called Luna today to apologize for…how I was last year. How I lied about what happened. I explained it to her.” 

“And?” Lorna asked, tentatively. Luna was a delicate subject. 

“She forgave me,” Pietro said. “Asked me to forgive her. There was nothing to forgive. I deserved that. But now, at least I have a chance of being a father to her again.” 

“All the students in her first grade class’ll be jealous,” Lorna said. “She’ll have the dad with the coolest job.” 

Pietro grimaced, grabbed the second drink Lorna had gotten him, and took a long swallow. “There are times when it feels like it will tear me apart.” 

“There’s a reason why they suggest therapy,” Lorna said. 

“You,” Pietro said, pointing an accusing finger at her, “don’t go to therapy.” 

Lorna sighed. “I should take my own advice, right? I’ll make you a deal, since we both have to deal with stuff. You go, and I’ll go.” 

“Only if you go out for coffee with Wanda and I twice,” Pietro said. 

“Fine.” She extended her hand. “Deal?” They shook on it. 

Pietro leaned back in his seat. “I might need that help sooner rather than later,” he said. “We all know what happens later.” 

“Yeah,” Lorna said. She remembered a call from the hospital. Injury, and not on duty. Self-inflicted. She shook the memories from her head. They were as persistent as the ones from yesterday, the kind that seared themselves into your brain forever. “Don’t do that again.” 

Pietro nodded. They were silent for a moment. Then Pietro said, “Remy is a surprisingly good caretaker.” 

“Don’t speak too soon,” Lorna said. “It’s only the first night.” 

Pietro gave her a look. “I don’t think I have.” 

“Then what—“ she paused, remembered ordering Remy to watch Pietro when she’d gone into the station after Mori’s last stand went wrong. “Oh.” 

“I applaud your detective work,” Pietro said. 

“Shut up!” Lorna finished her second drink and leaned back in her seat. “Are you going to be okay?” She didn’t want to leave him alone if he wasn’t. 

“The answer should be no,” Pietro said, “for all of us, given what we’ve been through. But, Lorna, I think this team is good for us. I think you’re a good leader. You’ve taken care of us. And for once, I think we might turn out okay.” 

“Just okay,” Lorna said. 

“I’m reserving judgement for after our second case.” 

Lorna swiped at him across the table and missed. 

*

In an apartment in a different part of the city, Remy and Georgia were watching three apple pies turn perfectly golden in the oven.


End file.
